Welcome to Gotham
by EmmyTheDerp
Summary: A new Meta criminal has emerged on the streets of Gotham. Although,this isn't just any common thief or terrorist. She's different, and being different attracts Harley Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

**Gotham City**

Why? Why had she done it?

The air was frigid. It stung where ever it touched her bare skin, wisps of snow fluttered lazily in the light breeze. They peppered onto the concrete, a fine white sheet of ice was covering everything.

It had been hours. She had been sitting here for hours.

The snow was building up around the corpse on her far left, a layer collecting on him. The warmth from his body had seeped away long ago. White specks were drowned in a sticky pool of red that surrounded him.

Oddly, she'd received an old pleasure in his death. Sure, he was scum, a rapist, a criminal, but what she had done...

Somewhere in the little part of her mortality that continued to scream how wrong she been, Katy knew it was true. But she didn't care.

Her hand was numb, however shaking fingers rose to trace a clumsy line across her pale upper lip. Dried blood clung to her mouth, a crusted trail tracing down to her collar bone.

Who knew human blood had such a tang to it? It mostly reminded her of copper.

Absentmindedly her tongue swept over her lips, poked by the unusually sharp canine teeth in her mouth. A freak they'd called her. Well, she supposed now she had proven their accusations right.

Something had clicked in her brain when that man decided to jump her here. It was a bad mistake, for him away.

Katy's light green eyes drifted toward the hand she still held on her lips. Her fingertips were stained a similar shade, a splash of crimson that had splattered down to her wrist.

She should be repulsed, disgusted with the scene, with herself. She wasn't. It was a strange feeling, not caring. That was exactly what Katy intended to do.

Her eyes traveled to the ground where the body laid. His ratty jacket was shredded in the chest area. His white T shirt was in tatters and no longer that white anymore. His face had that last look of horror, before she had ripped his throat out. Blood soaked the collar of his shirt, already dried, nearly concealed by the falling snow.

Katy had relished in the power she held, his life in her hand, at her mercy. It was a shame it had ended so quickly.

Though, now was not the time for reminiscing. What had been done was done, it didn't matter anymore. Just another lowlife thug dead in Gotham, it wasn't like anyone would be missing him.

Her joints were stiff as boards and a deep chill ached in her bones. One hand pressed onto the scuffed brick wall, Katy slid upright despite the massive complaining her muscles gave. She could just forget about this, return to her life as a young woman in the city just scraping by.

Snowflakes covered the black hair that hung loosely over her shoulders and face. Exhaling, a misty cloud of her breath blew into the air just below her nose. She had to get back to her apartment before anyone else saw her. She couldn't go through another episode of blind rage and wicked happiness.

A shudder trembled down her spine, and not because of the cold.

What kind of animal was she becoming?

* * *

To say Harley was in a glum mood would be an understatement.

The blonde locks secured in two pigtails on either side of her head were disheveled. Her mascara was running, creating jet black lines down her powder white cheeks. Her usually upbeat, energetic posture was slumped, her walk was more of a mope.

Streets lamps went by as she passed, to nowhere in particular really. At first she'd instantly wanted to go to Ivy. Harley knew her closest friend would be waiting with open green, vine-covered arms. Though, this happened so often Harley felt like she'd overstayed her welcome one too many times. She could tell, the way Ivy's eyebrow always twitched when Harley relayed the next chapter of abuse the Joker dropped onto her.

She had a knack for trying Ivy's patience plenty of times, it was her nature, but Harley knew her friend would snap one day. She didn't want that. She loved Ivy, in some weird, special way.

Her boots thudded on the concrete, Harley's eyes were glued to them. She just walked. How long had it been, she wondered constantly. Minutes, hours? Did Mr. J miss her yet? She sure did miss him.

"I suppose I can make myself at home in the nearest dumpster..." The blonde clown girl muttered bitterly, her arms crossing over her chest. Atleast Mr. J had decided to throw her out while she wearing something decent for the oncoming winter wrath. It was a dark red hoodie she had uh... liberated from a thrift store not too long ago. Harley liked red, it was her color.

Lifting her face to the biting, cold air, Harley's blue eyes swept all around the empty streets of Gotham's Suicide Slums. Only the lowest of the low made their home here. She must have crossed out of Mr. J's turf a while ago, the masculine silhouettes and shadows leaning against buildings or trash cans were the common criminal type that usually hung around. Or they were goons, to Scarecrow, Two-Face, Rupert Thorne, you name it.

Harley wasn't concerned for herself. She was Harley Quinn, the Joker's girl. They wouldn't dare lay a finger on her, and if they did, a swift kick down where the sun don't shine would do just fine.

Whoever's henchwench she was however didn't stop their eyes from following her. Harley could feel every stare tracing her body and curves, it was unsettling, though she'd just have to suck it up and keep going.

The snow was falling at a faster pace, she was leaving narrow foot prints in the thin sheet that was beginning to cover the sidewalks and roads. Harley sighed intentionally, rewarded with a cloud that melted into the air.

She needed to find somewhere soon if she wished to avoid catching another blasted cold. This was ridiculous, she might aswell buy her own damn warehouse or apartment if Mr. J kept doing this to her so often. It's not like he cared about the money, the boys did, but not the Joker. Most of the time Harley was there at his side, handing him gasoline and lighters to set the green on fire. It had been fun, but Harley couldn't help but feel sad about all the shiny jewelry and pretty things she could have bought with all that.

Lost in thought, a scratchy male voice on the other side of the street nearly caused the blonde to yelp in surprise. Her head snapped around to the source of the man's vulgar remark. Harley squinted, focusing on the two figures that stood by a crumbled liquor store.

She was shocked to discover one of them was a woman.

The thug had cut her off, standing in the center of the sidewalk. He had the most leering grin on his face. Harley's fists clenched. He spouted a few more lewd comments, pulling a short, rusty blade from the inside of his old, beaten jacket.

Harley expected the poor girl to start screaming Bloody Mary, sob like a depressed maniac, or simply faint. She'd seen it before, though the blonde jester got another surprise.

The dark haired woman remained rather placid, her jaw set and lovely mouth a thin line. She didn't appear very scared, the way she stood was eerily loose. Very calmly, her hand stretched toward the thug, cupping one side of his stubble covered face. The corners of her mouth curled into a smile.

Harley involuntarily shuddered. It was a cold smile, the kind that did not reach her eyes. This woman had blood on her mind.

The man was grinning too, sheathing the old switchblade. The woman took several steps closer, mumbling quiet, inaudible words. Her nose was inches from his, and she was leaning in.

Harley expected a kiss at the most. She continued to get another shock.

The woman's head cocked sideways, she was still smiling. In one quick motion, her mouth latched around the thug's jugular. Either was a horrible kisser, or that was intended. Harley could do nothing but watch when the guttural screaming began. Blood began to pour from where her red lips met his throat, it streamed down her chin, onto her chest. The man tried clawing at her, though her hands clutched his arms. Angry gashes were left whenever he attempted jerking them away.

His movements were becoming weaker. The woman forced him onto his knees, his arms fell away from her. She held his chin up with a bloodied hand, pulling away at last. His lolling head to rocked back, a lifeless body falling away onto the snow-covered walkway.

It was like something out of the dang horror movie. Harley was unable to move, clenching and unclenching her hands. She'd witnessed horrible murders, torture, chaos, but this... this was something different.

The woman observed her work for a moment, using the heel of her left hand to wipe the blood from her mouth. She flicked the hand at the nearest wall, splattering red onto its bland grey surface. Lifting her leg, she stepped over the corpse, sauntering further down the street until the shadows of the night swallowed her.

Harley released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.

* * *

Ivy didn't usually watch television. Mostly, she had better things to do than see the meat bags on a small static screen complaining about the drama in their lives. Though, the Gotham News channel had several interesting pieces on a rare occasion, it was also helpful for scouting out the next corrupt, big-business bastard that needed to be taught not to mess with Mother Nature.

Now was one of those times that Ivy gave the media a chance, curled up on her couch, flipping through channels with a potted plant in her lap. She stroked its leaves as if it was a cat, it quivered in response to her touch.

She was quite bored already, but every plant down to the blades of grass sticking through the cracks of the concrete floor had been watered already, so there wasn't much to do. Somewhere in the back of her mind she craved Harley's company. Her beaming smile, her childish attitude, the nickname she gave her. Red. It was a simple word, but so special to to the redhead she couldn't explain it.

Harley could call her Red. That was their thing, she liked it when Harley called her Red.

The ghost of a smile found its way onto Ivy's lips while she continued to surf through channels. It was only a matter of time before Harley returned again, the Joker just loved putting her down. It only fueled Ivy's hatred for the stupid clown, but sadly there was nothing she had been able to do. Harley always forgave him, and she always abandoned Ivy in the process.

The smile disappeared.

Exhaling, she set the remote on the arm of her faded red couch, shifting her legs out from under herself to sit cross-legged. She'd been debating for a while whether or not she should kill the Joker. Perhaps if he finally croaked, Harley would snap out of whatever delusional stalker-love she had for him. Or, she would tumble into an unstoppable fit of sadness and rage, maybe even trying to throttle Ivy for killing her beloved "Puddin". The Joker always came first, Ivy was a close second.

Ivy _hated _losing. And she was losing to the Joker of all people! Talk about a real kick in the head.

Frowning, the redhead gazed at the TV screen. She wasn't really paying attention to whatever show was playing, it was more of dreaming up various, colorful ways the Joker would die.

Vicious, frantic knocking on her front door startled Ivy from the stupor she'd lost herself in. A warm feeling fluttered in her chest for a brief moment. It was probably Harley. She'd hadn't seen the blonde in weeks, other than the text messages she'd sent every now and then. Ivy would only put up with a smart phone for Harley. She'd do a lot of things for Harley.

Setting the pot on the end table by the sofa, Ivy slid onto the floor. She was conflicted, happy to see Harley again, although the sinking feeling in her stomach was dreading how badly her friend had been beaten this time. She might as well get the gauze, thread, needle, and antibiotics ready.

Sucking in a breath, Ivy's pale green hand grabbed the door handle, turning to knob to pull it inward.

It was Harley. She was bent over, hands on her knees, chest heaving. She didn't seem to have any visible injuries. Her hoodie was spotless, snow was melted in her hair, and dried dripping mascara was stuck to her flushed cheeks.

Hearing the groan of the door, she glanced up, blue eyes wide and haunted. Her lips trembled, pulling into another heavy breath. She must have been running for miles.

"Harley! What..."

The blonde stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around the redhead. She swallowed thickly, sighing.

"Yea, yea. Hi Red. Good to see you!" She slipped away an instant later, squeezing past Ivy to collapse onto the couch. She threw her arms backward to hang off the edge.

"The craziest thing just happened to me! Boy do I have a story for you to hear!"

* * *

**This is a redo of the first Fanfiction I made, Welcome to the Madhouse. I decided I wanted the story to be more mature and dark, and not some humorous thing with jokes and silly dialogue. It's not going to be completely morbid, just a bit more blood, sexual references, and serious talk. You know, the whole kazoo.**

**And those of you following and reading the Wondergirl: Apocalypse story, no worries. I will continue updating it. I have its next chapter in progress, got 2,000+ plus words for it, and it should be done soon once I get the ideas I have for this story out of my system. **

**By the way, anyone seen Batman Assault on Arkham yet? I'm in love with that movie! Harley is just so awesome, with every line and thing she did I found myself laughing and smiling. Especially the doll store scene. **

_Crazy, huh?_ - Harley Quinn 2014


	2. Chapter 2

Steam curled off the surface of Ivy's tea, disappearing into the drafty air moments later. The cup was warm in her hands, propped onto the wooden tabletop.

The TV rattled on in the background, going through various commercials and the theme song of some cartoon Harley always watched whenever she stayed here. Dusk had settled outside, and the snow fall had quickened too. The windows of the greenhouse were already beginning to ice over.

Harley sat across from the redhead, her own drink untouched. She was acting... odd. Well, stranger than usual. She seemed restless, fingers tapping frantically under the table against her thighs. Her face was ashen, from running that long, or the cold, Ivy hadn't an idea. Her crystal blue eyes were wide, darting all around the greenhouse. She was unable to hold Ivy's questioning green gaze for more than a second.

It was almost as if she was expecting someone.

Ivy's fingers tightened around the ceramic handle of her mug, knuckles flushing a lighter green shade. God help her, if the Joker busted down the door in the next 10 minutes she was going to throw a fit. She didn't need that kind of scum in her greenhouse anyway. He always tried to hump the plants. Who does that?!

"Harley..? Are you going to tell me what happened?" Ivy rocked into the back of her chair, attempting to catch her twitchy friend's eye.

It took a moment, but Harley tilted her face to look at Ivy at last. Her red lips pressed together, arms rising to cross over the other on the table. Steam billowed from her drink inches from her hands, blowing up to her nose.

"Hmm? Oh... yes." Harley was frowning. Her head tilted sideways slightly like a curious dog's. "Well, I was walking around in the Suicide Slums, you know prime gang territory and all that..."

Anger swelled in the Ivy's chest. She huffed in quiet disapproval, putting aside her hatred for the clown for the time being. Harley would get the usual female empowerment lecture later, right now whatever was bothering the blonde jester was Ivy's top priority. "What were you doing there Harley? Joker kicked you out again, didn't he?"

Harley started, as if the question had caught her off guard. Something had definitely rattled her cage if the Joker wasn't the first thing on her mind. Overcoming the brief moment of shock, her eyes closed halfway. "What? Uh.. no I was selling Girl Scout cookies- anyway I was walking and I noticed this thug stopping a woman on the sidewalk. I was sure he was going to drag her off, but... she was really calm. It kinda impressed me how brave she was... I wonder who she is? That'd be a cool friend, someone that ballsy..." Her expression changed into that lost, listless look. Ivy sighed.

"Okay.. and what was so horrible about some girl not dying of fright in front of this thug?"

Her friend shifted nervously, very intent on staring a hole into the surface of the table. "Well.. there's more to it. She started caressing his cheek all romantic-like, and leaning closer. I figured she was going to kiss him, I also thought she must be really horny if she wanted to get busy with some gross weirdo from an alley, that's not even on my level of crazy." Her pigtails bobbed when she gave her head a couple shakes. "She didn't though, she grabbed his throat and pulled a freaking Jeffery Dahmer!" Harley's nose wrinkled. "I've seen a lot of bad things... but this was just scary. There was so much blood, and all she did after was wipe her mouth like she'd just had a refreshing drink and walk away." Harley pulled her feet onto the edge of her chair, wrapping her arms around her legs to hold them close to her chest.

Ivy contemplated this silently, bringing the mug to her lips to sip at the tea. It slid down her throat, creating a soothing warmth in her stomach. Well, it was quite the story. Fairly morbid too. Though, what was the harm? Whoever this woman was, she couldn't be much of a real threat, not to Ivy anyway. The redhead found her shoulders shrugging, placing the mug back onto the tabletop with a quiet clink.

"That's... interesting. But nothing to really worry about Harl. If anything that woman has done the world a favor by killing that disgusting rat. One less man in the world, so what?" More quietly through the side of her mouth she added: "I hope she keeps it up."

Harley sighed for the tenth time, straightening herself to sit upright in the chair. "Yea.. I guess you're right. It was really freaky though."

Using her index finger, Ivy traced the intricate lines and patterns on the side of her mug. "Well, if that's all you wanted to tell me, I suppose you'll be crawling back to the Joker now?" She replied dryly, glancing at her with an indifferent expression. Another loss to the Joker. When would she ever get it through Harley's thick, empty skull that she didn't need that clown? Every time she tried it felt like chatting up a brick wall. There were days when Ivy really triumphed, Harley didn't think about the Joker at all. Then he showed his pasty white face and all that work goes down the drain.

Harley untangled herself, placing her feet on the floor, lips curling up to smile. "Nah, I'd much rather be here, if that's okay with you?"

Ivy was unable to contain the quirk on her mouth, she brought the mug back to her lips to hide it.

"I'd love that."

* * *

She'd done it again.

The bathroom was a misty haze when Katy pushed the shower curtain away to step onto the cold tile floor. Water slid off her bare skin, creating clear puddles on the floor beneath her. The water going down the drain in the tub was a faded reddish brown, swirling away until it was no more. There had been so much blood.

Looking back, she realized that it had disgusted her somewhat to have someone else's blood on her. But the rush of adrenaline, it had excited her so much. So much that she found a little part of herself wanting it to happen again. Was it even possible to become addicted to killing people?

Blindly, she grabbed for the towel hung over the rack by the sink, her eyes were glued to the mirror. Steam coated it, rendering her reflection a blurry mess. She'd always been different, so why had it taken this long for her to finally break? Katy wrapped the towel around herself, keeping it secure with her left hand. She used the right to wipe away a clear spot on the mirror.

Ever since she'd been a child, her dentists had always suggested an expensive fix. A fix for her teeth. What was to fix? She'd never had many cavities, and now they were nearly white as pearls. Katy leaned close to the mirror, squinting. She opened her mouth, glowering at the pointed tips that stuck out from the rest of her teeth. So, yes, she'd been born with abnormally sharp canine teeth. She'd also always been faster, and stronger than the other children. Maybe it had something to do with all the Poptarts and Twinkies they ate, or not. Point being, Katy had always been the odd one out. And she still was.

So what- _who_ was she now?

A murderer, an animal, that's who. A grimace found its way onto her face, the shined surface of the mirror already beginning to fog up again. Katy averted her eyes from her own reflection, one palm pressed onto the granite edge of the sink.

This needed to stop, she couldn't allow the wicked animalistic instincts to control her. Katy was a human by all accounts with morals and emotions. What she had done wasn't right, even if those men completely deserved their untimely fate.

Her damp hand twisted sideways, clenching to form a fist against the stone counter.

"No... it won't happen again. I'm better than this." She promised herself harshly aloud, posture slumping into a lazy slouch. Wet strands of black hair tumbled off her shoulders, dripping water into the sink bowl. Exhaling into the humid air, Katy pulled away from the mirror to push the bathroom door open. Cooler air rushed into the small room, goose bumps erupting down her arms and legs. She padded into the bedroom, bare feet sinking into the plush, soft grey carpet. She allowed the towel to fall away in heap near the foot of the bed, shifting toward the wooden dresser set under the single small window in the room.

She'd committed two murders, on the same night. They were surely bound to be noticed by the Gotham PD, no matter their... "professions". Katy was no mastermind, she was bound to have left several discriminating things that would catch their attention. She understood, it was only a matter of time before a squad of officers busted down her door to arrest her. All she had to do was wait.

Katy pulled the navy aeropostale t-shirt over her head, sliding her arms into the sleeves and pulling the end down with her hands. It was baggy on her lithe form, she liked it like that, it provided an unusual sense of comfort. She shoved the top drawer closed, bending slightly to grab the handles of the second one.

Suddenly, a furry body was rubbing against her naked left leg. Katy flinched rather violently, but managed to bite back the yelp of surprise. A low toned meow broke the silence besides the common city nighttime ambiance of honking cars and machinery.

She sighed, glancing down to where a large, yellow-eyed gray tabby continued stroking its sides on her legs. He meowed again. It was just her cat Reginald.

"Dammit. You nearly gave me a heart attack Regi." Katy breathed quietly, using her left hand to toss away the tangled damp hair back over her shoulder. The tom cat lifted his face to gaze up at her, meowing. "Yea, yea, I'll get to you in the minute. Could I at least put some pants on first?" She mumbled dryly, returning to tugging the second drawer open. _Sad, the only friend I have to chat with is a cat._

While Katy tugged a pair of loose charcoal yoga pants onto herself, she watched the cat hop onto the bed in the corner of her eye, lowering on his haunches. He watched her intently. It was unnerving. As if he knew what she had done.

No longer pantsless, Katy tilted herself to face the cat, frowning. "Don't look at me like that. God, all you do is judge. Hmmph." She crossed her arms, receiving another meow from him. She huffed, stepping beside the end of the bed to run a hand along his back. Reginald rose to his paws, back arching and leaning into her touch. "I guess I do deserve whatever discrimination you have..." Sidestepping, Katy settled onto the bed. The cat immediately made himself at home in the center of her lap, folding his legs underneath himself and beginning to purr like a motor.

Katy bent one arm backward to hold herself upright, the other absent-mindedly petting him. She became lost in her thoughts watching the snow fall outside methodically. A small smile gradually formed on her lips while Reginald's soft purring lulled her into a daze.

* * *

Red and blue lights lit up the dark, grimy alleyway. They shone off the bland brick and crumbled plaster walls, illuminating the otherwise shadowed surroundings. Neon yellow police tape criss-crossed in x's from every entrance to the alley, fencing off the cleared space filled with several investigators and members of the Gotham police department. The first snowfall of the oncoming winter was really taking a toll on the efficiency of their work. The corpse had been covered with a tarp to protect it from the weather, a thin coat of flakes was already coating it.

Batman observed in his routine, silent fashion, hunched over at the edge of the closest building's concrete roof railing.

Naturally, he had caught wind of the incident long before the department, even evaluated the few scraps of evidence salvageable from the snow minutes before they had arrived. He'd even collected a sample, a strand of dark hair. Though, his work wasn't quite finished. Every criminal, murderer, thief, or terrorist always had a motive. Bruce's eyes moved unseen beneath the white lenses of his cowl, sweeping through the alley over and over. So what was this one's?

He'd conjured up the first part of scene already.

It had been out of self-defense, no matter how grotesque the results were. The hair he had gathered was lengthy, and the faded scent of a distinct female perfume hung all around the body. It had been a woman, unfortunate enough to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man had pulled her into the alleyway, trapping her against the wall. They had struggled to the center of the alley... and she'd done something.

Teeth marks of a predator and red lipstick had lined the marred, pale flesh on the man's neck. She'd bitten him, and taken a chunk of his throat away with it.

So, Batman was dealing with a thrill-seeking cannibal, or a woman who acted with a deadly split-second decision. He'd have to keep in mind the second murder as well. This one was intentional, the same scent and lipstick on the victim's ripped away jugular. He had gashes on his arms, as if her fingernails were sharp enough to shred the skin like butter. It was a real head-scratcher.

Bruce's jaw tightened, tiny flecks of snow were settling on his insulated suit, stinging his uncovered chin wherever they touched. For now, all he had was the hair. It was the only lead he needed to uncover the face of this killer.

One thing was certain, someone was killing in his city, and that was not okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**TheClownPrincessOfCrime** Oh, wow. This kinda caught me off guard. c: thank you, this story started off out of a boring afternoon, and I wasn't sure if I'd keep going. I guess I was just amusing myself a little. Thanks for the review, and yes, ohmygod Assault on Arkham literally almost made me have a fangirlasm. When Ivy showed up I nearly screamed like a banshee. Too bad she didn't have any lines, there's good money I'd pay to hear Poison Ivy say some things. Pfft anyway. Also, I agree on the voice work for Harley in the movie too. Tara Strong's unique voice has always been apart of my childhood in endless cartoons. In Arkham City I kept picturing Batgirl because Tara voiced her in the cartoon. Hyden Walch makes me think of Starfire, who is almost as lovable and great as Harley.

The Doll store scene was by far my most favorite part of the movie, and her rampage toward the Joker. There's no one in DC comics I hate more than the Joker. Poison Ivy x Harley Quinn all the way!

* * *

The Batmobile pulled into its place on the Pad leading out of the Batcave with no more than a quiet hum. Brakes squeaking nearly soundlessly, the angular black car slid to a stop, its engine cutting off. The top of the vehicle slid backward, revealing a stone-faced as always Batman. The hair secured in a small plastic bag inside the pocket of his utility belt was beginning to feel like lead.

Batman lifted himself from the driver's seat, boots thudding onto the metal catwalk that branched off toward the more stable floors of the cave. The largest, flattest part of the Batcave's floor housed his massive custom computer system. Someone was seated in the comfortable swiveling chair in front of the big main monitor, her red hair illuminated by the soft bluish glow coming from the screen. Nimble, slim fingers tapped rapidly on its keyboard, forming paragraphs in minutes.

Bruce didn't need to even glance at the screen to know what Barbara was working on. Most likely police reports, files, or criminal records for whatever case her father was stumped on this time.

To his left on the next circular pad Dick and Tim were sparring with staffs, grunts and the clank of wood against wood filling the rather solemn, eerie atmosphere of the Batcave. Bruce sauntered toward the computer, reaching down along his way to unclip the pocket that held the hair sample. All he needed to do was have Barbara scan it, and the culprit would be revealed. Then, it was a matter of finding her.

Apparently having heard him, Barbara minimized whatever window she had been occupied with, using her feet to twirl herself around to face him.

She was out of costume, her long strawberry red hair loose and falling over her shoulders. She wore a plain grey turtleneck sweater with jeans and black pumps. Her icy blue eyes flashed over him, lips curling ever so slightly. "Welcome back, Bruce."

Batman nodded as much as his cowl covered head would allow, holding the little baggy forward with a gloved hand. "Barbara. I need you to scan this and tell me who comes up as a match."

Barbara reached forward to retrieve it, eyeing the dark tuft of hair that hung inside. "Hmm. Alright." She mused, reaching backward with her left hand to grab the edge of the desk and swivel herself back around. "Who are you stalking this time?" The delicate tapping of the keyboard filled Bruce's ears besides the occasional screech of a bat.

Bruce grunted dryly, very aware of the sarcasm practically dripping from her voice. He moved away from the chair, approaching the sealed, tinted cabinets placed beside the costume display cases. "Double murder on the same street. Self-defense at first, on purpose the second time." He replied, grabbing the lower handle to reveal the inside of the container. It was lined with several.. Bat-toys as Quinn had taken to call them.

Barbara made some sort of sound in acknowledgment, continuing to tap away at the computer. "Interesting." She indulged him at last, taking a break from typing to drop the hair on the system's scanners. "So, the usual treatment when you find them, the famous Batglare, scaring them to death, then dragged off to prison?" She glanced up expectantly at Bruce where he stood by the cabinets, fitting several new, unused batarangs and smoke bombs into his belt.

Batman frowned, head shaking when he shoved the cabinet closed. "Not this time. Arkham Asylum."

The redhead met his gaze through the cowl, one thin eyebrow raised. "What's the occasion?"

His frown only deepened, recalling the maimed state the corpses had been in. "Well, whoever it is, she tore both of their throats out with her teeth. So I'm suspecting cannibal." Now fully prepared, Bruce returned to Barbara's side in front of the massive monitor. The scanner had finished, pulling up the hair's corresponding file.

"Ew." Was her reply, attention focusing on the screen.

Bruce's eyes darted from place to place on the file where a young woman with black hair and fiery green eyes stared back. She had to most placid expression, as if her eyes were boring into the lens of the camera that had taken the picture. Below, everything he needed to know was listed on a silver platter.

_Grey, Katy Nicole_

_BD: 6/11/93_

_Weight: 116 lbs. _

Her current address and occupation followed. A set of fingerprints covered the lower right side of the page. She had no criminal record, not even down to juvenile hall. Straight A and B student, never even had a parking or speeding ticket in her life. What could have gone wrong? A heavily insulated gloved finger tapped Bruce's bare chin. His eyes behind the cowl narrowed.

"West Gotham. I know where to go." With that, Batman turned, his cape swishing in spiked ends on the stone floor.

"Happy hunting." Barbara replied flatly.

* * *

Gotham Central Park wasn't paradise. But it was good enough.

The fresh air invigorated Ivy, and the feeling of her babies, no matter how beaten, all around her provided some sense of satisfaction. And Harley. Harley made it ten times better.

At times she was right at the redhead's right hand, becoming lost in conversations with her that ranged from advanced physics and biology to Waffle House and french fries. Other times she was jogging ahead like an eager puppy, cartwheeling, performing front flips, crunching into the thin layer of snow that had covered the park's fields and ground and giggling that bubbly laugh of hers.

Darkness shrouded the area, keeping Ivy relieved with the knowledge that the shadows would conceal their well-know identities. It was simply blissful. Harley was safe with her, amused, and that's all that mattered.

Slowing her pace, the blonde pulled up to match Ivy's long-legged gait, smiling ear to ear. Her cheeks were flushed from all the gymnastics, running, and the cold bite of the winter air. She was enjoying this as much as her. Inwardly, Ivy was grinning just as cheekily.

"This is nice. Though. It's getting late and cold. We should head back, Harley." The redhead's nagging maternal instincts always reared its head whenever her blonde friend was around, it was like a snake slipping through her defenses every time.

Harley let out a heavy exhale, tightening the frazzled scarf wrapped messily around her neck. Her breath created a small puff of mist in the frigid air. "Yea, phew, I like the snow, but the cold can be a bit annoying."

The two women turned on the sleet patched cement walkway, Harley taking her time to place each foot in the places where Ivy's own footsteps had broken the ice.

The lights of the greenhouse shone through the dark silhouettes of trees and winter-bare shrubs. It would probably only take 10 minutes to return. Ivy was content with taking a little longer with that. She cherished every second she could get with Harley.

After a couple minutes of snow-crunching silence, Harley's bright voice broke in. "Red?"

Ivy tilted her head to look at Harley. "Yes?"

The blonde clown girl had her eyes to the ground, the hardness of her beautiful blue eyes signaling the rare occasion when Harleen Quinzel's seriousness and rationality made an appearance. "I just needed to say... even if I have before... Thank you Red. You're an amazing friend, I don't know what I'd do without you." She flashed a caring smile, facing rising.

Something in Ivy's gut felt like it did a flip. She swallowed thickly, unable to suppress her knowing smile in return. She felt like screaming in joy. Yes, no matter how many times Harley said it, it meant just as much as it always did to the redhead.

She slithered her right arm over Harley's shoulders, holding her close enough that their hips brushed with each step. "Oh, it's nothing Harley. I love having you around, my life wouldn't be the same if we'd never met."

Harley smiled in reply, her left arm wrapping around Ivy's back. "The Bat never did stand a chance against us. We're quite the team."

"Mhm."

They continued the remainder of their walk in a casual embrace.

* * *

Just hours ago she had literally bitten the life out of two people, though Katy was relaxing quite comfortably in the soft quilt that covered her bed. She was sprawled onto her stomach, a pillow clutched beneath her chest and a cat rumbling and kneading the small of her back with his prickling claws. Who needed a spa visit anymore?

She watched the television sluggishly through half-opened eyes, on the verge of letting sleep completely drag her under. The only thing keeping her conscious was the cat constantly moving up and down her back. His purrs felt like they vibrated in her ears after someone had blown a horn into her ear. Everything was becoming a daze regardless.

It was most likely her last night as a free woman, so why not veg out as much as she wished?

Sighing, Katy attempted to drown out Reginald's purring, allowing it instead to lull her further asleep. Stretching the taunt muscles in her legs and shoulders, she tilted her head sideways to sink her cheek into the pillow. Where would she end up tomorrow? Would her sleep be interrupted harshly by the yelling of men and the creak of her door being busting off its hinges? Maybe they'd simply sedate her while she slept, and she wake up in a nice, grungy cell the next morning.

Katy sighed, her breath ruffling the dried locks of hair that had fallen all around her face. The cat had finally laid down on the lower part of her right shoulder, the warmth coming off him soothing her back beneath the thin t shirt she wore.

The warbling of the TV was becoming fuzzy. Her eyes felt so heavy.

Then she felt it. The sudden shift of mood. Like the room just became 30 degrees colder. A quiver ran down her spine, disturbing Reginald. His body had gotten stiff.

Very slowly, Katy pushed herself onto her elbows that sunk into the soft comforter. The harsh light of the television screen burned her eyes, stinging while the pupils dilated to adjust. And she saw him, a pointy-eared shadow that lingered in the right side of the room, by a window that was ajar. The cold Gotham air made the curtains flutter behind him, soft light from streetlamps outside outlining the dark figure. Batman. A low growl came from the cat perched on her back.

"Ms. Grey." That voice.. it chilled her to bone. Scratchy and monotone. It was something she would never forget for the rest of her life. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me."

So the Batman was paying her a visit himself. Didn't every myth, legend, and story about him floating around this wretched city tell what a vicious monster he was? Breaking everything available bone and nose to keep some poor thug or asylum patient from even twitching for several months. That sounded terrifying, even from the local rat population that made themselves at home in every empty alley.

Was he going to do that to her?

For many seconds Katy did not reply, her lips pressed together desperately trying to stop herself from screaming or sobbing. Maybe this whole passive arrest hadn't been such a bright idea. She could have been using this time lazing around to leave the city. Go to Metropolis maybe.

_God. I'm such an idiot. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in prison, or god forbid, some asylum!_

Carefully, Katy pulled herself to sit upright, the cat sliding off her back with a dejected growl. He slunk onto the edge of the bed, disappearing as silently as the Batman had arrived.

_So.. let's go with casual here. I don't want to be remembered as the wimpy, screaming and crying one. _

"Hmm. Is that so? Either you've never heard of a door.. or you just like sneaking through windows whenever you can."

He was silent, heavy footsteps pounding on the carpet. She resisted the urge to flinch. Though, she did have to tilt her head back just to keep staring at his.. eyes? Something inside his cowl covered his eyes with some sort of a white film. Nightvision perhaps?

"I know you were the one who killed those men. I'm taking you to Arkham Asylum."

Katy's eyes hardened. "And if I refuse?"

His wrist flicked, something moving beneath the long cape he had wrapped around his body to conceal his chest and arms. The next moment, a sharp prick exploded in the side of her neck, a heavy liquid weighing in her veins.

"Oh.. that." She slurred, already feeling the effects of the drug. Her limbs felt so lifeless and numb. "Just.. one thing.. then." Frantically she pressed her palm into her forehead, massaging the bridge of her nose in hopes of stimulating herself.

"What's that?" Batman's faraway voice replied.

"Make sure.. my cat.. ugh." The world was swimming and dipping like the ocean. "gets a good.. home somewhere."

"I know just the place."

And everything was dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome to Arkham**

Her world flipped on and off like a flickering radio signal.

Bars of harsh florescent light shot through what seemed to be the cab of a car, stinging her light-deprived pupils. One heartbeat resounded dully in her skull. Darkness consumed her.

She flashed conscious again, inhaling quietly through parted lips. Everything felt so numb.

The roar of a vehicle's engine felt like it pounded in her head, gears shifting, breaks squealing. Her eyes slid shut, trying to soothe the pulsing ache in her temple.

The chair she leaned heavily against was terribly comfortable, her small frame sank into it like foam. It only made the idea of sleep much more appealing. But she had to stay awake.

Katy did the first thing anyone would, she curled her fingers, several joints popping. The effect of whatever drug that had been pumped into her blood still flowed inside her like an icy drag.

Next, she tried her wrists. No such luck there.

Two cold metal clamps secured her hands to the other, virtually unmovable. Her arms felt too weak to lift them anyway. Katy rolled her head against the head support of the seat, trying to focus on her surroundings.

The interior of the car was black, vibrant blue or red buttons brightening the drab color scheme. In the corner of her eye a pair of gloved hands clutched its oddly shaped wheel. His pointed hood deemed him recognizable.

_Batman. Oh right.. Batman. He caught me.._ Katy allowed herself to start wallowing in self pity; now was as good as time as any. _I'm going to Arkham Asylum. I just know I am. That place is a nightmare on the outside, I don't want to know what it's like on the inside!_ Her eyes closed, exhaling rather loudly.

Silence. Her senses were slowly returning. It alarmed her how keen they had become. She detected Batman's heartbeat, slow and calm. The rattle of the engine concealed by the hood of his impressive vehicle, the wheels slicing through freshly fallen snow. She also smelled her own fear.

"You mumble while you sleep. Something about your dad. Arkham psychiatrists can help with that." The Bat's gravelly voice interrupted her growing list of worries.

Katy pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing a groan of protest. "Is that supposed to be a joke?" Somehow she found her voice, no matter how slurred and groggy it was. "They don't do shit. Best case scenario is I won't become a prison guard's bitch the moment I get there."

She nearly lost herself in a haze, eyelids drug down, she gazed at the road ahead through narrowed eyes.

Batman made some sort of grunting noise, arms tilting to turn the wheel. "They can help you, Katy."

"You know full and well what really happens inside those walls, don't you?"

"Yes. But I won't let that happen to you. You're different."

A scowl found its way onto her face, her numbed body jerked forward, hands pressing into the edges of the upholstered seat to glance sideways at the brooding hero. "I feel so special now."

The movement caused a wave of vertigo to overtake her. Swallowing, Katy sank back into the spine of the chair, trying unsucessfully to block out the churning in her stomach. Batman didn't reply, not that she could tell.

Darkness returned.

* * *

The walls of Arkham were so bland and beaten. The entire place radiated of fear and death, but well, what was expected of an insane asylum in the most gothic city on the planet? The stench of mildew wafted from every direction, along with a mixture of chemicals and sterile equipment that burned in her nose.

Dinky little ceiling lamps flickered weakly above, they were the only source of light besides the eerie, weak glow emitting from each cell passed. Through the glass, Katy was able to observe one crazy after another; and she was one of them now.

Catcalls flowed down the corridor she was led down, the men, mostly... ninety percent of the entire asylum, pressed grubby faces to the panels to watch her pass. Some were even licking the clear surface, creating disgusting smudges that blurred their image.

She cringed, intent on keeping her head down for the rest of the way.

_Well just look at this fine mess I've gotten myself into. God, my heart is beating so fast! Am I having an anxiety attack? It feels like it. I'd be alright with dying right now, no problem. Damn that Batman. _

Katy's next breath hitched in her chest.

The Batman's strong grip was still locked around her left shoulder, urging her to walk deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast. Oddly, she found comfort in his presence. He may be the one putting her in here, but at least he wasn't a rapist, murderer or psychopath.

Well.. the psychopath part maybe. Who runs around in a bat suit all night?

Padding forward, she couldn't help but notice a hulking silhouette housed in a strangely large cell, his chest was massive, rippling with muscle. His skin.. it was grey, flecked here and there with small bumps that she suspected must be scales.

Nearing the cell, Katy was able observe the creature a bit more thoroughly. Holding in a gasp, her wide celery green eyes flittered nervously over him. The man's-well... was he? His lower jaw jutted forward like a bulldog's under bite, a vicious row of yellow teeth protruding over his upper lip.

It was like something you'd see in a monster movie. Despite the heavy aura of authority rolling off the intimidating convict, Katy tilted her head back toward the distant cell, slowing her pace a bit. His pale golden eyes followed her, pupils two thin slits that felt like daggers slicing into her skin.

Batman urged her to pass with a gentle shove, unfazed by the horrid growling coming from the reptile man. "Batman. Bringing in new meat." His voice was nearly as deep throated and rough as the Bat's. Chains jingled; he must have taken a step closer to the glass.

His cell slowly disappeared down the long hallway. Desperately trying to ignore the hungry and lustful stares, creepy looks, and crude comments that followed her down the painfully long walk, Katy exhaled, exasperated, tilting her head sideways at Batman.

"So.. who was that? I'm not going to be within... jaw-reach of that thing, am I?" Not moving her gaze from a fixed point at the bend in the hallway where two turns branched off, she waited for an answer from her captor.

"Killer Croc. And no. He usually isn't allowed in the recreation room with the other inmates. You have nothing to worry about."

"Oh. Yay?" Her flat-footed, plain white patient shoes thumping almost soundlessly on the cement flooring, she halted at the end of the hallway. Katy tilted her head side to side, indicating she wasn't sure of which way to continue.

"Left." Batman replied, steering her in the correct direction. Was that leftover knockout stuff still messing with her or did his voice sound softer?

They were nearing the end of the hall, the furthest cell to her right was pitch-black dark, unoccupied. Opposite of that one, however, sparkled with the pale luminous glow of a lonesome ceiling lamp. A man laid stretched out comfortably on his cot, whistling an unidentifiable tune. His hair was a dull brown, both arms crossed behind his head. Upon spotting the Batman, he leapt from his bed, smiling politely.

"Ahh Batman. How nice to see you again. And I see you've brought us a new playmate.. So, new girl, Riddle me this..."

"Shut up Nigma." The suited hero growled, tugging Katy to a stop in front of the cell neighboring the man's.

Nigma shrunk into the shadows of his cell, huffing. "You never let me finish my riddles..." He mumbled irritably as a Arkham security guard passed, approaching the magnetic lock on the cell with a keycard. He tiptoed on ice around the Batman, eyeing him nervously through the corners of his eyes while he swiped the card into the lock. A hiss of air and the glass door slid open.

Katy stepped inside, the tight hold on her wrists gone along with the pair of carbon metal cuffs Batman slid onto a clamp in his belt. She turned herself, hands held by her waist, the right one massaging her left. The guard slid the card through the port beside a thin opening in the glass door. It secured itself shut, she was trapped.

The man prepared to leave, Batman stopped him. His broad figure overshadowed the guard with ease, who was beginning to cower like a kicked puppy. "I don't want anyone laying a finger on this girl for anything unorthodox. Keep her safe." His demand was edged with a seriously hard tone, knuckles tightening on the man's arm before his hand slid back down.

"Yes-yes sir!" Having been dismissed, the man scrambled as fast as a power walk would take him.

Katy turned her face upward, trying to meet the masked hero's eyes. Anxiety dropped in her gut like a cold stone. Once Batman left, she might as well be considered a newborn gazelle fawn in the middle of a lion pride. "Batman?" She asked quietly.

"Yes?" His dark silhouette seemed to smother the scarce light that shone in from the transparent barrier that separated the two of them, only defining his position more sharply.

"Thank you." Those two simple words hung on her lips, receiving a knowing nod from the hero. He turned himself, marching soundlessly the way they had come. She was alone now.

Katy crossed her sore arms over her chest, taking some time to observe everything around her. The cell across from hers was empty, for now at least. Its door was open, revealing a tidy cell with a small collection of books tucked beneath the bed. A faded poster of _Alice in Wonderland_ decorated the back of the wall, held up on its corners by screws drilled firmly into the cement.

Sighing, she wheeled herself around, taking a quick glance around her own cell.

Cobwebs nestled in each corner, and stuck to the small hanging lamp overhead. A very large, very _hairy_ spider rested in one, wrapping up some poor insect in a ball of white webbing. A fine layer of dust covered... well _everything_. The sheets on her bed looked rather crisp and well-cleaned, however.

Drowsiness dawning on her, Katy crawled onto the stiff, thin mattress. Curling herself into a ball, she draped her arms over her knees to hug them to her chest.

She had a feeling this nightmare had only just begun.

* * *

**Sorry this was kinda short. I wanted to squeeze a chapter in today and ran out of time. Tomorrow or Saturday I'll have a longer one up. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Guest** No worries, I hate cliffhangers too. This story is going to be pretty long, it's more of an origin story my OC Katy. There will probably be more stories I make later on centering around Harley or Ivy, and just have Katy as a side character somewhere.

**A/N: You know, this started out in my mind as being in the Batman: The Animated Series universe, but when I decided to put Catwoman in.. I remembered how much I liked her house in the Arkham City Game. **

**So I think I'll mix both universes together, with nothing changed other than Selina's house being what it was in the game. **

* * *

A fully-costumed Catwoman approached the small, squared window that served as her door more recently than anything. Cats crowded around her long, elegant legs, meowing to their mistress and rubbing against the high leather boots that went up the middle of her calves.

"I'll be back soon. Time to go hunting." Selina murmured in reply, hooking the metal tips of her gloves underneath the sill to push it upward. Bitter winter air rushed into the small, lush apartment, chilling the exposed part of the cat burglar's face. Wisps of snowflakes fluttered past as well, settling in the room to melt.

Snow had coated the fenced in concrete space just outside, with frost lining each small chain link and wire.

Reaching up to her face, Selina pulled the large orange-red tinted goggles over her eyes, providing some relief from the frigid air stinging her eyes. It may not be the most ideal time, but a nice run along the rooftops would warm her up just fine. Just feeling so free was reward enough.

Smiling at the thought, Selina performed a small jump, clasping the other side of the open window to pull herself off the floor. Her lithe body easily slipped through the small space, boots landing soundlessly and gracefully on the ice-coated stone surface.

Exhaling, a tiny cloud of her breath escaped just below her nose. The weather in Gotham was always so hectic, next week it would probably be boiling like the Sahara Desert. Turning herself, Catwoman balanced on her toes to grab the end of the window and yank it back down. Her cats continued meowing inside, one was perched on the windowsill as it shut, watching Selina with wide green eyes.

Huffing, she stepped away from her apartment, knees bending to leap upward. Chainlink clanked as her metal claws hooked into the curved spaces. Catwoman hung upside down on the mesh of wires, expertly crawling her way to the small door that opened to the roof.

Giving it a healthy shove with her left hand, the trap door swung up, folding back to slam onto the wire roof. Selina grabbed the outer edge of the opening, sliding herself onto the top of the cage. The snow was falling a bit more violently, now, fuzzy white flakes collecting all around her feet. A small layer of it covered every roof that she could see.

"Atleast slipping and possibly falling to my death will make it more exciting." The green eyed woman shrugged, one of those trademark Selina Kyle smiles on her red lips. She was just an inch from the edge of the neighboring building when a chillingly familiar voice stopped the thief in her tracks.

"Selina. I need a favor." Catwoman turned on her heels, ice crunching.

Batman stood on the opposite side of the chainlink cage, cape drawn around himself. Flakes peppered his pitch black cowl and cape, shining in the soft light that the surrounding street lamps provided.

Overcoming her initial surprise, Selina began sauntering toward the brooding hero. "Aw, Bruce. I haven't seen you in so long." Selina stopped inches from him, grinning ear to ear. "What kind of favor?" She leaned close to purr seductively.

Sadly, she received no reaction but a quiet sigh.

Slowly, Bruce parted his cape, revealing a grayish bundle secured in the crook of his arm. It was an animal, its ears flipping forward and oval yellow eyes staring at Selina curiously. Its tail tip twitched nervously hanging off the hero's muscular arm.

"A cat?" Selina blinked.

"Yes. A... friend asked me to find a home for him." His heavily gloved hand stroked over the cat's small head. It began purring, quite content.

"Hmm. Yea, I never figured _you_ as a cat person." Selina took one final glance at the Batman, petting the cat gently, smiling uncontrollably. "Sure, I'll take him." Holding out her arms, she flexed her fingers as a gesture to hand the animal over.

Bruce's arms slid forward, depositing the cat into Selina's. "Right." He grunted in his exaggerated deep voice.

Selina balanced the cat on her forearm, using the other to stroke in between its ears as carefully as one could with metal shards on their fingers. She made the mistake of glancing down, smiling as the animal leaned its cheeks into her hands, purring. "Thank you, Bruce."

But he was gone.

* * *

"Ms. Grey, welcome. How did you sleep?"

The first night in Arkham had been just as terrifying as she imagined. Endless hours of gut-wrenching screaming and faint, soft laughter, like someone giggling at a joke they had long since forgotten. Inmates beating on their glass panels, throwing back colorful language and mindless warbling to one another.

Some guy named Scott decided to share the very... graphic story of how he diced a man into little bits with nothing but a butter knife. Let's just say Katy would never butter her toast again for the rest of her life.

This was her first session with an Arkham psychologist, he was here to "help" her. Or so everyone kept saying.

His name was Dr. Letoski, a no-nonsense business type guy with neatly combed brown hair, a bit of stubble, and baby-blue eyes as crystal as a clear water pond. The rims of his glasses hung precariously from the bridge of his nose, obviously he didn't _need_ them, she supposed he kept them around to keep up some sort of smart-guy image.

He was seated in center of the bland session room, hands folded in his lap, hovering over a tablet. Not pens or pencil in sight, nothing sharp.

A firm guard's hand on each shoulder, Katy was shuffled into the musky space, face passive while she gave him a scrutinizing once over.

"Terrible. Please tell that Scott fellow to keep his escapades with butter knives to himself. " She replied dryly, the two guard's hands clenching, shoving her down into the uncomfortable ancient leather couch. A safe distance from the doctor's small wooden desk.

He flashed a tiny smile, hand gliding toward his face to collect those useless reading glasses and set them on the surface of his table.

"How are you settling in then, Ms. Grey?"

Metal clanked close to the floor, a single, extremely heavy weight lugged her ankle down so that her foot was flat to the tile. The chain welded into the cuff was attached to the leg of the sofa.

"It's an insane asylum. About as well as you'd expect." Here she was making small talk with this guy, inside Katy was churning like a hurricane. She was... angry. Furious. With Batman, with those men, with... herself for being so careless. Her loose dark hair swished methodically as her eyes followed the retreating pair of guards. One of them, his nametag read Larry, paused at the door.

"Just yell if you need us. You know where the button is."

The doctor replied with a nod of his head, light eyes never leaving Katy.

"I'm sorry to here that, Katy. If we can just work together, in a short couple of months you may just be out of here." He retrieved a rubber-tipped stylus from a concealed pocket inside his white lab-coat styled jacket, a keypad and notebook document appearing on the screen of his device.

What if she couldn't do it? What if she wasn't strong enough? This whole idea of having someone's life on a thread in her hands was... tantalizing. She wanted it. Scott's story times did nothing to help. They involved so much blood, blood that she could practically taste on her tongue.

"I'm not so sure about that." She retorted quietly, breaking eye contact with him. Dark temptations, they were always around. She must have imagined a thousand different ways to kill those guards by now.

Dr. Letoski glanced up. His grip on the pen tightened.

"And why is that?"

Guilt, it washed over her like a crashing ocean wave. Did she regret killing those men? No. But... she knew it had been wrong. Everything was confusing. Katy lifted her head, darting to the corners of the rooms, searching for cameras.

"It's going to happen again." She answered gravely. "It is my nature."

Letoski tapped a couple words into his tablet's keyboard, "What do you mean? It is your nature to rip other people's throats out? If that's so, do you even consider yourself human?" He pried again, tearing his focus away from whatever he'd just typed.

How dare he. Jaw tensing, Katy swore she felt her right eye twitch angrily. "I know what I did was wrong, but I am not just some sort of animal to be caged up and prodded."

Still as collected as ever, the doctor gave his head a small lop-sided shake. "Your previous actions seem to prove otherwise." He replied at last, soft gaze darting up and down her face, searching for a reaction.

Oh, he was going to get a reaction all right. "How is this progress to rehabilitation? Riling me up, shaking the cage, it seems to be doing just the opposite. I'm... I'm done talking for now." She was unable to control the shakiness of her voice, eyes downcast.

The doctor released his pen, hands lifting in mock surrender. "I'm just trying to piece together your inner workings and all." Letoski lifted his gaze, one eyebrow lowered a bit, hinting for her to continue.

What a lying bastard. He wasn't at all interested in "curing" her, what dear old Letoski was after, was fame. She knew his type. Her issues and his successful rehabilitation of her would be excellent material for a book. Wasn't it behavior like this that effectively sank Harleen Quinzel down with the ship?

Just thinking of Arkham Asylum instantly brought up the Joker, and with the Joker she remembered a news story. No, not the countless, horrible atrocities he had committed in the past, but the one he may consider his greatest victory.

Twisting someone's mind to create a pathetic plaything. Katy was still unable to wrap her head around how such a mild-mannered, nice woman like Dr. Quinzel had been transformed into that maniac clown woman Harley Quinn. Sadly, her own carelessness was to blame.

"Lies. All lies." She whispered solemnly.

* * *

Oh. She missed Mr. J so much.

Harley laid on a cheap plastic fold-in table placed against the greenhouse wall. She was in a fetal position, arms wrapped around her knees. The glass inches from her nose had long since frosted up, leaving the forlorn blonde to peer through a blurry transparent sheet. It's not like there was much to see anyway. A few twisted, knobby trees, dead holly bushes.

The TV went on in the background, muffled by the walls separating Ivy's small paradise from the rest of the house. Harley could understand why Ivy enjoyed being surrounded by plants. It was serene, helping somewhat to calm the storm of thoughts running through the harlequin's broken mind. This table may not have been the most comfortable place, but she just needed some time to be alone.

Harley didn't have to say anything for Ivy to know what was wrong. She knew it burned her green-skinned friend to the core, so she simply tried not to bring it up. It just a matter of how long she could last before exploding with emotion.

And leaving... leaving was always the worst part of it. The hurt in Ivy's fiery emerald eyes, it was like each time Harley went through that a door a little of her closest friend's walls were torn down.

Sniffling miserably, Harley pulled her legs tighter into herself. Why couldn't Ivy and Mr. J just get along? That would make things so much better, having both. She'd never have to chose again. She'd never have to hurt her Red again by choosing Mr. J each time.

"Oh Red.. if you could just understand Mr. J.. you'd know why I have to go back." Her eyes burned, silent tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

The bright screen was upside down, various commercials and advertisements flashing one after another. The petite woman's dull blue eyes barely registered any of it, lost in a self-induced stupor. Blonde locks fell downward from her head, upper body sinking into the soft cushions of the sofa. Her legs were stiff as boards, feet held in a graceful line toward the ceiling. Her body was slumped, the weight of so much pent-up stress dragging her physical being down like an anchor. A soft breath came from her, fingers pawing half-heartedly at the surrounding area for the television's remote.

She was just really wasting Ivy's electricity leaving it on anyway, and every show, no matter what it was about, somehow managed to remind her of Mr. J. Damn everything.

Coming up with nothing but a couple handfuls of upholstery fluff, Harley sighed again, a defeated sound that rushed from her small body like helium escaping from a balloon. She owed it to Ivy to stick around a little longer, right? Much longer, maybe? The redhead did have a point... if Mr. J kicked her out, he didn't want her around... so she should stay away, give him space. Harley hated it, she hated it so much. What she wouldn't give to run her fingers through that beautiful shock of greasy, green hair.

A scolding, stern face framed with startling red hair overpowered the growing fantasy. Harley's eyes grew wide, lips pressing into a thin line.

"Girl power." Harley reminded herself firmly aloud, hands curling into fists and feet beginning to kick idly at the air. The television prattled on, a catchy theme song playing from the latest show on schedule. It was little more than background noise to Harley, her usually clouded mind uncharacteristically clear and racing like a nervous rabbit's heart. Mr. J loved her, they were just at a bump in their _unique_, rocky relationship. Teeth sank into her pink lower lip. Mr. J wasn't perfect (though really darn close) and neither was she. They were bound to have a few fights every now and then. And he was so strong and manly... sometimes it got out of hand!

_Oh, like the time you were shoved from a three story building? He was trying to kill you._ A crisp, feminine voice rang in her thoughts, accompanied by its heavily masked accent. Harley growled, several fingers beginning to rub over her temple. Of all times, Quinzel had to show herself now? The pain intensified in Harley's lip, brows drawing closer. The blonde focused on the floral patterns decorating the ceiling, eyes tracing each neat line and swirl. No... Mr. J just got a little carried away sometimes, he knew she would live. It had just been a little punishment for almost killing the Batman, only Mr. J was allowed to do that. She learned. Harley Quinn was tough, Harley Quinn was strong. And Mr. J knew that, so he tested her, made her even stronger.

_You're a fool, Harleen. A little fool._ Harley's world rocked dangerously, memories rearing their ugly heads at Harleen's request to goad cruelly at her. _A joke. Arkham's pet. Ditzy blonde bimbo, she's only playing doctor the best she can._ The pain, she always remembered the pain. A broken arm, a busted nose, a dislocated shoulder. And the blood, that awful metallic scent. Sweaty palms pressed into her creased forehead, warding away any other unwelcome visions. No, all of that was in the past. She had done wrong, she deserved every last bit of that pain... everything. Her fellow doctors at Arkham, they were the jokes! She was Harley Quinn! She would make them all pay! She'd prove them wrong!

"Ugh! Stop it!" Harley whined furiously, clutching her own head in a vise-like squeeze. Silky blonde hair slid between her fingers, brushing down rosy cheeks at the pull of gravity. She frantically snapped her eyes shut, a desperate attempt at holding in the warm liquid finding its way in their corners. Her efforts were in vain, an overwhelming of sadness and confusion washing across her like a massive tidal wave, crumbling every bit of Harley's resolve. Quickly righting herself to avoid embarrassing trails of eyeliner across her forehead, she embraced herself tightly, swallowing several wails of anguish.

_Why do you do this to me? Things would be much simpler if you would stay where you belong Harleen! You're the joke! You're weak! You are a mask! Harley Quinn is free, Mr. J helped me find my true self. So keep your trap shut Quinzel! I don't need you!_ A sob escaped her, a fresh stream of tears finding their way down her face to create darkened puddles in the sofa's fabric.

Light footsteps padded from further into the greenhouse, urgent and brisk. Harley had a fond idea of who it was, and a welcome sense of relief settled on her. Ivy always made things better. She needed her embrace more than ever.

Taking a shaky breath, Harley listened to the rustle of the redhead's clothes, the swish of her hair, and every muffled foot fall growing closer and closer. Her fingers wrapped more fiercely over the opposite bicep of each arm, finally allowing each tear freedom. Soon enough she was a sniveling mess, curled into a sobbing ball on the couch.

"Harley?" Ivy's soft voice broke the silence, by her side in the seat of the couch in seconds. "Harley, what's wrong? Are you alright?" A pair of arms wrapped around the shivering blonde, pulling her close to the older woman's chest. Strands of loose, heavily flower-scented hair tickled Harley's face, the faint, relaxing sound of Ivy's heartbeat ringing in the ear pressed close to the redhead's collar bone. Her slender hand created soothing circular motions in the center of Harley's back, murmuring reassuring encouragements into Harley's hair.

Her throat tightened. No sound came but another sob. "Harley? It's okay. Can you tell me what's wrong?" Sniffling and using the heel of her palm to wipe away the tears, Harley practically threw herself into Ivy's hug, savoring the familiar warmth her body gave off. It wasn't much, sadly, being part plant didn't provide much body heat like a regular human. Though, it was just enough for Harley. She whimpered, nuzzling her cheek into the crook of Ivy's exposed neck.

"It's... it's.. nothing, Red." She managed with a shaky voice, Ivy's arms squeezing more tightly around her.

"Don't lie to me, Harley. What made you cry?" Ivy demanded, her voice gaining an icy edge.

A weak laugh shuddered from Harley's mouth, fingers pressing into the sleeves on each of her arms. Salty tears dribbled into the edge of her mouth, leaving a sharp tang on her tongue. "It's... just... it's Harleen... she's saying.. stuff. It's... no big deal. She does it a lot.. I just tell her to go away." She managed through breathless sobs, closing her eyes. "You're the joke, Quinzel." She whispered morosely, feeling Ivy's sigh ruffle her hair.

"Oh, Harley..." The redheaded woman murmured lovingly, a cold hand stroked her hair, arms drawing Harley closer. "You're right, don't listen to Harleen. I like Harley a million times better."

* * *

_Oh my dear God, please kill me now._ Katy laid on the uncomfortable, vertical cot, face down in the bleach-soaked, prickly bed sheets. The single, lumpy pillow provided for each cell was covering her head, both hands clutching its edges to pin it against her ears like earmuffs.

Sadly, it wasn't doing much to block out any noise.

"Still nothing, huh? Okay.. maybe this one will suit your fancy..." Edward Nigma, one of her many, many fellow Arkham inmates, continued in his pleasant, business-like voice. He liked to be called the Riddler. Katy had asked why. It was the one single thing she had regretted this much in short her life.

The young woman resisted the urge to groan as loudly as she could, a single, wordless reminder to the clever man that she could not, repeat, _could not_ care less about his silly riddles. "Riddle me this: If you break me I do not stop working, if you touch me I may be snared, if you lose me nothing will matter, what am I?" She could picture his satisfied, smug face, sitting crossed-legged on his own bed and leaned forward ever so slightly in anticipation for her answer. How the hell would she know? Katy wasn't good with riddles, puzzles, etc... so why, why to all that is holy was her next door neighbor the Riddler?

"Someone. Please kill me!" She ground out sarcastically into the thin mattress, curling her sleep-deprived body to lay sideways. Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, _tched_ from his room just across the aisle. He was most likely engrossed in a copy of _Alice in Wonderland_, listening in on each of Nigma's riddles to provide answers since Katy never bothered herself. He was obviously humoring Edward, which only resulted in more riddles. This was hell. Utter torture.

"I can help with that, sweetheeeeart!" Scott chirped in a cheerily malicious voice further down the row of cells.

* * *

It had taken nearly a half hour for Harley to calm down, coaxed out of her misery by the endless, and helpful words from Ivy. So now Harley was almost stretched out in the woman's lap, arms hooked behind her neck and over her shoulders like a life line. She could imagine the dark lines under her eyes, which were most likely red and puffy from crying, and the messy trail of makeup down her flushed cheeks. She didn't care. She had her Red. The two stared vacantly at the T.V. not really paying attention to the show, mostly to one another. Ivy kept stroking Harley's hair, a simple gesture than pretty much meant the world to her.

She couldn't help but smile a little.

Ivy cared about her. She didn't need anything else. Not even Mr. J.

"I'm going to check the news channel, alright, Harley?" Ivy's smooth voice suddenly sounded, vibrations from the noise quivering into Harley's ear. In the corner of her eye she groggily followed the beautifully pale green hand grasping a rectangular object covered in buttons. Unsure if she could even form an intelligible word, Harley simply nodded, her cheek resting just above the redhead's chest.

The redhead pressed a combination of buttons, the t.v. flickering to the Gotham News Channel. A familiar face appeared, the blonde reporter Vicki Vale. Behind her, a maze of neon yellow police tape covered a dingy Suicide Slum's sidewalk, a pair of body bags lining the middle of the street. Harley perked up, one eyebrow arching. Could it be?

_"-double murder committed the dark alleys of our fair Gotham has finally found its surprising culprit tonight. With the help of the Batman..."_ at that, dear Vicki smiled slightly. _"-the killer had been identified to be one of our very own, Katy Grey, still in her second year attending Gotham University. Motives for the murder are unknown as of now, the only evidence of her erotic behavior being a pair of frightening identical bite marks on each of the victim's necks.."_

Harley found her voice, jolted into alertness by the disturbing news. "It's her."

She felt Ivy's gaze shift down to the top of her head, head tilting sideways a little. "Certainly does sound like what you told me." Her redhead friend agreed, tapping the volume button down to silence Vicki.

"I'm telling you Red, that girl's... up to something. She'd gonna start something..." Harley tuned in on the faint drum of the television, picking up bits and pieces of Vicki's description. Her eyes darted over the various text below the reporter, headlining the excitement.

"What makes you think that?" Ivy scoffed in distaste. "She's just some kid."

The blonde jutted her lower lip forward, pouting, certain that Ivy would notice. "Just call it a nutjob's intuition."

* * *

**Sooooo it's almost been a month since I updated. Sorry! I've been so busy with my other story! Thanks for reading!**

**Please review! I love reviews. c:**


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